Flight Risk
by Malvolia
Summary: When Rogue's powers begin to return, she leaves Xavier's school and finds refuge with someone who will be instrumental in changing her life forever. [Complete]
1. Leaving, I

She heard it before she felt it. Hints of voices that weren't hers tickled her mind. At first they were indistinct, faraway, easy to dismiss as voices from across the room or behind the next door. She couldn't ever say when they started, because at first she didn't notice that they had. She wondered if the Professor would have been able to see what was coming—but the Professor was gone.

Gradually, they became louder. People started commenting on how jumpy she had become, turning around suddenly with no apparent reason. Bobby would put an arm around her and hold her hand, telling her it was just stress and that she was going to be all right.

She had forgotten what it felt like to touch another being—she hadn't even been able to touch animals with ungloved hands, for fear of absorbing their life-force. After she had taken the cure, she spent hours at the stables near the school, currying horses and resting her face against their warm flanks as she used to do on her uncle's farm back in Mississippi. She spent hours sitting close to Bobby, bare arm against bare arm, ungloved fingers entwined, not needing anything more than that. Holding Bobby's hand like that was better than she ever thought it would be. They held hands almost constantly.

She grew more involved in life at the school, unafraid that accidental contact with someone would land them in the infirmary. She found that Kitty wasn't such a bad kid, after all; that Kitty was just lonely, and that she wasn't the only one. Rogue was amazed how many of the girls at the school were lonely. She wondered how she could have missed it before. She became the friend and confidante of many a young girl afraid of her powers and afraid of showing others that fear. She embraced them as they cried, she kissed their foreheads, she squeezed their hands empathetically. "It's different for you, now," one of them told her, and for an instant she felt a pang of guilt.

The voices in the dormitories grew louder.

One evening she and Bobby were returning from watching the moon rise over the trees in the park. As they climbed the front stairs, he leaned down to kiss her. His lips brushed hers, and he had to grab her to keep her from falling. She pushed away and ran, ran out into the darkness, away from everyone.

She had heard the voices. No. One voice. Bobby's. He was in her head again, and that could only mean one thing.

Bobby found Rogue sitting with her back against a tree, her head down on the knees she had pulled against her chest as she sobbed, small and alone and afraid, because Storm had been right. There was no such thing as a cure. 

It was then, really, that she had made the decision to run further. But she stayed for weeks, long enough that people stopped worrying about her, stopped watching her. Long enough for everyone who meant anything to her to tell her what she meant to them, how much she had helped them, how much they cared about her. And every time someone added, "even if I can never touch you again," Rogue took it calmly, took it even as it pierced her heart, lodged there, and made her numb.

The sympathy made it easier, the night she packed and left without so much as a note, as she had left her home in Mississippi years ago. It made it easier because she didn't think she could put up with it for one more day.

She didn't have much money. Money wasn't something you thought about much at Xavier's. She used what she had to head back down South, but she couldn't bring herself to return to the place she had once called home. She stopped in Tennessee, where she found work as a waitress at a seedy, run-down diner where the proprietor didn't ask questions about her obsession with long sleeves and gloves.

The only encouragement she received throughout her day came in the form of a middle-aged woman who stopped by every morning for a cup of coffee. She had shown up early in Rogue's time there and had taken to her right away. Rogue had to admit that she found herself drawn to this woman, too. She reminded Rogue of her mother, in a way. So when it turned out that the woman owned a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and that she wanted Rogue to come work there for her, Rogue trusted her enough to say yes.


	2. A New Home

She told Rogue "Mrs. Graydon" sounded too stuffy. Rogue told her it felt strange calling a Southern lady by her first name. "How about Mama G?" the older woman laughed, and they used the name jokingly for a while. Eventually the "G" was dropped, but "Mama" stuck.

One day, as Rogue was mucking out a horse stall, she heard Mama approaching the barn, deep in conversation with someone whose voice Rogue didn't recognize. When the two arrived, Mama introduced him as "Avalanche."

"I'm guessing that's not your given name," Rogue said.

"It's the name I've given myself," he said. "My mutant name."

Rogue recoiled.

"Surely you don't have anything against mutants?" Mama reprimanded. Rogue couldn't answer. "Avalanche isn't the first mutant I've helped," Mama said. "They need love and companionship just like so-called 'normal' people do, Rogue. And they need a place to practice their talents so that they can control them. Possessing a power you don't understand is a dangerous thing."

"I'm sorry," Rogue said to Avalanche.

"It's okay," he said. He held out his hand. Rogue looked down at her own hand, ungloved because of the work she was doing.

"You don't want to shake my hand," she said, nodding down.

Avalanche glanced into the stall and laughed. "I guess you're right," he said.

Rogue had never seen Mama's eyes so intense.

* * *

Late one night a few weeks after Avalanche came, Mama came to Rogue's room and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"You and Avalanche getting on all right?" she asked.

"He's okay," said Rogue. "He's been making fun of me for wearing gloves all the time, but other than that…."

"You've never told me why you do that," said Mama.

Rogue shrugged and looked away.

"You don't have to," Mama reassured her. "I just want you to know that if you ever want to tell me, you can."

She got up and walked to the door.

"Mama?" Rogue called after her. The older woman turned. "I do want to tell you."

* * *

Mama said there wasn't anything to be ashamed of, that Rogue was special, that she had gifts other people didn't have. "Denying your power is more dangerous than using it," she said. "Are you gonna live in fear the rest of your life, Rogue? Is that what you want? To be alone and afraid?"

It wasn't what Rogue wanted, not at all, so she believed Mama when she told Rogue she could help her. She trained with Avalanche, absorbing his earth-shaking powers and using them as her own. She trained with other mutants as they arrived, becoming accustomed to the strangeness of another's skill, and becoming more confident in using it. The only thing that bothered her was the growing number of voices inside her head, and Mama told her that even those were a gift.

"The voices aren't going to go away," she said. "You've made the choice to bury them, but I say you have another choice—the choice to learn from them. Keep the good and discard the bad. Make the thoughts your own, just as you make the powers your own. You're not stealing, you're learning."

As Rogue continued her training, she listened for the other voices, deciding what to heed and what to ignore. She found she could learn not just perceptions, but raw facts, from the length of the Nile River to the password for Avalanche's computer. She found that once someone learned of her power, it became easier to access their secret thoughts. The fear of discovery brought them to the surface.

Mama led the trainings from a distance. Rogue never touched Mama with an ungloved hand. She deserved more respect. She had given them a home, a family. Rogue's heart twisted as she thought of Professor Xavier and his school. Mama had been offended when Rogue told her about it. She was scandalized that someone would work on the minds of young mutants to advance his own agenda. Rogue protested that the professor didn't use mind control, but Mama said he didn't have to, that his classes were a far more subtle way of accomplishing the same goals.

"If you ever feel I'm trying to make you believe something that doesn't feel right to you," Mama said, tears in her eyes, "don't stay."

Rogue hugged her and assured her she had never felt anything less than appreciated for all that she was. "You taught me how to be myself," she said. "I'll always be grateful to you for that. Always."

* * *

They started going on missions. Unlike the X-Men, Mama's group went under cover of darkness. She didn't see any need to expose themselves to unwanted attention.

They began by rescuing people, people who always paid them handsomely for it. Then they embarked on several missions involving what Mama called "liberating funds," taking money from anti-mutant groups. Mama, who was in charge of the redistribution of the funds, told Rogue that she was sending them to various groups that were friendly to mutants.

"Sort of like a mutant Robin Hood?" Rogue asked.

Mama laughed. "You could say that."

"Did you send any to Professor Xavier's school?" Rogue asked.

"That's a good idea," Mama said. "I'll do that."

* * *

One day, Mama came to Rogue in the barn, flushed with excitement. "Rogue," she said, "I've found someone to help you."

"You've helped me," Rogue protested, a fear of being sent away rising in her heart.

"I mean someone to help you control your gifts even more than you can now," Mama said. "Someone who could help you use them when you want to. _Only_ when you want to."

The shock made Rogue's knees weak. She leaned against the wall.

"You'll have to hold on longer than usual," Mama said.

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"It'll be more dangerous for you than for her," Mama said. She stopped and looked off into the distance, a concerned expression on her face.

"What is it?" Rogue said. "Is there something else?"

"I've tried and I've tried to reason with her," said Mama. "But she refuses to let you near her."

Rogue's heart sank. "Well, then, how…."

"She works for an anti-mutant organization," said Mama. "The Friends of Humanity. One of the worst. She won't budge."

"Why did you tell me?" Rogue asked, angry tears springing into her eyes. "Why would you get my hopes up like that if you knew there was nothing we could do about it?"

"I never said," Mama replied, "that there was nothing we could do about it."

She looked Rogue in the eye steadily.

"You…you mean…."

"It won't be pleasant for you. But considering the likely end result, I thought…."

"Are you sure?"

"Almost positive. There is a risk. It's up to you whether or not you choose to take it."

Rogue made her choice.


	3. Choosing

The woman, Carol Danvers, would be piloting a small plane on the way to deliver funds and equipment to the newest branch of the Friends of Humanity. Mama, Avalanche, and Rogue reached the airfield hours before takeoff. Mama pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine.

"Wear this," Mama said, handing Rogue an earpiece. "We can keep in contact this way."

"What…what am I supposed to do?" Rogue asked.

"Get on the plane," said Mama. "Hide in the back. Don't touch her until she turns on the autopilot."

Rogue thought about her training. Few of those she had drained energy from purposely for a long period of time had kept the strength to stand. If she were to hold on even longer this time….

"What if she passes out?" Rogue said. "I don't know how to land a plane."

"I do," said Avalanche. "I'll talk you down."

"How…"

"Air Force," said Avalanche nonchalantly. "Until they figured out I was a mutant."

"You've never told me that."

"It's never come up," Avalanche retorted. "I don't remember you being very talkative about what happened before you came to Mama's farm, either."

It was true. "Sorry," Rogue said.

"No sweat," said Avalanche.

"And remember," said Mama, "she knows how to land the plane. Just listen to her memories." She pressed a piece of paper into Rogue's hand. "Land at this location. I'd rather not have to deal with any security at this airstrip."

"Isn't security going to be watching now?" asked Rogue. "How am I supposed to get on the plane?"

"That's the other reason I'm here," said Avalanche. "I'm a diversion."

Mama nodded towards the plane. "Go," she said. "We'll meet you at the landing site."

Rogue took a deep breath and got out of the car. As she neared the air control tower, she felt the ground beginning to shake slightly, then with increasing intensity. Under cover of the confusion, she ran for the plane. Heart pounding, she boarded and hid, not knowing how long she would have to wait.

The hours before Danvers boarded didn't seem as long as the time it took to reach a cruising altitude. After what seemed like days, Rogue heard Danvers announce to the control tower that she had engaged the autopilot.

She wondered what it would be like, purposely taking someone's strength without their consent. She had done it before, but in much different situations. Logan had stabbed her fatally. John had been blowing up police cars. Carol Danvers was simply flying a plane. Then Rogue remembered where Mama had said the plane was going. She thought of militant anti-mutant groups getting their hands on what this plane was carrying. She thought about all the fighting she had witnessed because of anti-mutant sentiment. She never wanted to witness fighting like that again.

Carol Danvers deserved what was coming to her.

Rogue removed her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket. She adjusted her earpiece as she crept forward from the back of the plane. Just as she reached the cockpit, Danvers turned.

"What the…?"

Rogue leapt at her, grabbing at her outstretched hands. Danvers resisted, fighting back with a strength that took Rogue completely by surprise, but as Rogue hung on with all the desperation she had ever known, she felt that strength flowing into her.

She heard Mama's voice in her ear. "Keep holding on, Rogue!"

Danvers' struggling became weaker and weaker.

"How much longer?" Rogue asked, panicked.

"Keep holding on!"

"Get away from me!" Danvers shouted, and her voice echoed in Rogue's head.

"Mama, I'm scared!" she said. "I wanna let go!"

"Just a little longer!"

With her last bit of strength, Danvers lunged back at the control panel, pulling Rogue with her. Rogue screamed.

"What's going on?"

"The plane's tilting!" said Rogue. "I've gotta let go!"

"Wait!" yelled Mama, but Rogue had released her hold on Danvers. The other woman slumped to the floor, lifeless. Fear coursed through Rogue.

"I think she's dead," she whispered.

"Rogue, the plane," Mama said urgently. "Can you fly the plane?"

Rogue came up against Danvers' thoughts with a jolt she had never experienced. It was as though Danvers—everything that made her who she was—was imprisoned in Rogue's mind. She was still fighting. With great effort, Rogue managed to push the thoughts away.

"Rogue? Are you there?"

"I can't fly it," she said. "I need Avalanche to talk me down."

"He isn't here," said Mama.

"What?" Rogue yelled.

"Security spotted us. We had to split up."

Rogue's mouth went dry.

"It'll be all right," Mama continued. "There's something I hadn't told you yet about this woman's powers."


	4. Leaving, II

Rogue scooped up Danvers and tried to gather her nerves. She had tested what Mama had told her and found it to be true, but trying Danvers' powers out on a plane was entirely different than trying them out while jumping from a plane. But with the plane racing towards the ground and the strange lack of parachutes onboard, she didn't have a choice.

She pulled her foot back and then kicked out at the door, hard. It came ripping off its hinges.

_So far, so good_, she thought. _All that's left now is to..._

She jumped out of the plane. They fell 20 feet before she remembered that she couldn't allow herself the luxury of listening to her fear. She closed her eyes and thought about moving away from the plane. When she opened them again, she was doing it. She was flying.

Even after all that had just happened, she felt a brief sense of elation. Then she looked down at Danvers' motionless form. Her mouth set in grim determination, and she made her way down to the ground.

Mama was waiting for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Where's the plane?"

"Falling from the sky," Rogue said. "I made it down first." As she spoke, they heard a loud crash. They turned and saw smoke rising from the woods nearby.

"We needed what was on that plane," Mama said angrily.

"I had to save her," said Rogue.

"You didn't…I mean, you could have saved the plane _and_ her at the same time, don't you get it?"

"At least whatever was onboard won't fall into the wrong hands," Rogue said. Mama's eyes narrowed. "The Friends of Humanity won't get it now."

Mama took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. "True," she said, but there was disappointment in her voice.

"Come on," said Rogue. "I've gotta fly her to a hospital before this wears off."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Mama said cryptically.

"Why?" Rogue said. "Because she's one of the Friends of Humanity?"

"That's not exactly what…."

"Just because she might want me dead doesn't mean I return the feeling."

"Then you're a fool," snapped Mama.

Rogue cringed. "I have to go," she said, and she rose into the air.

"Don't you get it?" Mama said. Her eyes flashed yellow. "They _do_ want to kill us."

Rogue stared at the woman on the ground. "Us?" she whispered.

"All of you," Mama said. "Which would kill me."

"I have to go," Rogue repeated, and she flew off beneath the gathering clouds.

--

The house was quiet when she returned late that night. The only light burning was in the kitchen, where Mama sat at the table with two mugs in front of her.

"I made tea," she said. "The kettle's on the stove if you want some."

"You lied to me," Rogue said quietly.

Mama gazed down into her mug.

"That woman wasn't one of the Friends of Humanity," Rogue said. "She was on a humanitarian mission."

"Where did you hear that?"

"From the nurses at the hospital," said Rogue. "The same people who told me who she was."

Mama was quiet.

"Ms. Marvel," said Rogue. "They told me what she's done. She was a hero."

"Was?"

"Was," Rogue repeated somberly. "Is again, hopefully, someday, but for now…." A tear ran down her cheek. "She's in a coma," she said accusingly. "Because of me."

"It's not your fault," said Mama.

"Like heck it's not," said Rogue. "You may have lied to me, but I listened to you. That makes it my fault. And what about all our other 'missions,' Mama? Who were we really helping then?"

"It's late," said Mama. "Let's talk about this in the morning."

"I'm not going to be here in the morning," Rogue said.

"Rogue, be reasonable…."

"Who are you?" Rogue asked. "Who are you, really? I can't stay unless you tell me."

"Please don't go," said Mama. "You're like a daughter to me. I love you."

"I used to believe that, too."

Rogue left the kitchen and went upstairs to her room. The place she had lived for the past months felt hostile now. She wondered if that was partly due to the hostile presence in her mind. She wondered what else in her life would be tainted by the day's events. She wondered where she could go from here, wondered if there was anyone, anywhere, who could help her. _Really_ help her.

She couldn't go back to the school, she knew that. She couldn't face her former friends with the knowledge of what she had done, who she had become. If only Professor Xavier were alive, maybe…. But there was no use thinking of that.

When Mama came upstairs the next morning, Rogue's things were gone, and the curtain was moving gently in the breeze.


	5. Aimless

She flew across fields, through forests, not even trying to avoid being seen, flying until she could barely keep her eyes open. She flew for days, making only the briefest of stops for rest, flying away from Mama, away from the hospital where Carol Danvers lay. She would fly until these new powers went away, until Danvers stopped struggling in her mind, until the tears of guilt and shame and remorse and self-hatred stopped.

She had always been flying from something.

One morning she woke herself up by falling out of a tree. Not a scratch, of course. She slammed her fist into a rock in frustration and it shattered. It was then, as she counted the days in her mind and realized that three weeks had gone by, that she began to accept what she had feared to be the truth.

These new powers weren't going away. Not on their own, at any rate. And neither was Carol.

With rising despair, she thought of Professor Xavier. If he had been able to hold Jean's powers back for as long as he did, he certainly could have helped her.

But the professor was dead. So was Jean, whose powers got the better of her in the end anyway, no matter how much anybody tried to help her. So was Marie.

Rogue took a deep, quavering breath, willing the tears to stay in, willing herself to be as impervious emotionally as she seemed to be physically.

Even if the professor were alive, she couldn't go back. Not after what she had done. She refused to face the others, to answer their questions, to lie to them. She didn't consider the possibility that they would accept the truth. _She_ didn't accept the truth.

But where would she go? She couldn't go back to Mama, either, not after being trained with the X-Men. Maybe if she had met Mama before she met Logan, things would have been different. She shuddered as she imagined what other atrocities Mama might have pushed her to in time.

For the third time in her life, Rogue had nowhere to go. She was hungry, and dirty, and lonely. She did the only thing she could think to do—she rose into the air and began to travel in whatever direction her fancy took her.

Maybe, someday, she'd find herself flying _to_ something.


	6. Another Voice

She didn't steal again, not even once. It wasn't for lack of opportunity, and there were plenty of times she wanted to. But she had Carol's voice in her head, and whenever she would so much as look at an apple in a crate on the sidewalk that voice would start screaming at her.

_You stole my life! Isn't that enough for you?_

Whenever Carol started screaming, Rogue lost her appetite.

She would also lose her concentration, which was worse. She was fired from more jobs than she cared to keep track of due to incidents like dropping full coffeepots, knocking over floor displays, crushing pricy flower bulbs into pulp, and causing general consternation by falling to the ground or shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"_Get out of your head?" What is it you think I'm trying to do?_

She slept on the roofs of houses when things got tight, saving precious funds for food. She liked to lay on a roof, staring up at the stars, and listen to the muffled sounds inside the house. She pretended that the people inside were her family—that they knew where she was and were just getting on with their normal lives, trusting she'd come in when she was ready. She didn't let herself think of her real family, back in Mississippi, or her adopted family, back in New York. When she started getting homesick, she would listen for Carol—always near the surface—to remind herself of the things she had done and why she could never go back.

_Murderer. Villain. You don't like what _you've_ become? That's a laugh._

Some nights, when even listening to Carol wasn't enough to distract her, she would fly to the nearest metropolis and land in the dingiest alleyway she could find. Fighting off gangs and chasing down muggers seemed to ease her pain, or at least to keep it away for a little while. She wondered if Wolverine felt the same strange mix of contentment and loneliness in the midst of his beserker rages. Maybe there would have been more contentment and less loneliness if she could have managed to come up against worthy opponents—certainly the rangy red-eyed character she had tussled with in New Orleans had distracted her longer than any of the others, but she'd never run into anyone like him again.

_Let me go and we'll see about getting you a worthy opponent, little miss warrior princess._

One night, after she had gone without food for days longer than she had before and her stomach had progressed from growling to roaring, she found herself digging through a trash can in a dimly lit public park. She found a few french fries and crammed them greedily into her mouth, digging down deeper in the hope that part of a hamburger would be below them. She pushed aside a newspaper, reached lower…and stopped. She had seen the word "Xavier."

Moving as slowly as a person in a dream, she pulled the newspaper out and shook bits of garbage off of it. She sank onto the ground and leaned hard against the trash can as she read:

"The president announced the first ever human/mutant summit today. Mutants and humans (or, as mutant-rights activists prefer to call them, simply 'non-mutants') will gather together to discuss ways in which the two groups can coexist peacefully, reaching together towards mutually beneficial goals.

"Professor Charles Xavier, founder and headmaster of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, has pledged his support to the initiative, stating that it is 'past time for all of us to acknowledge that we need each other.' The academy began an aggressive recruiting campaign today, spearheaded by Xavier himself. Professors Jean Grey and Scott Summers were at his side for the announcement.

"'All young people need guidance,' Grey said. 'Our job is to give young mutants a sense of purpose beyond revenge, beyond even simply feeling sorry for themselves.'

"Summers agreed, saying…."

The page was torn there. Try as she might, Rogue couldn't find the rest of the article.

She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. If only the professor were still here, maybe….

Wait. Wait just one minute.

Her eyes darted from the interview to the date at the top of the paper.

"Yesterday," she breathed.

Rogue's stomach turned. The inside of her mouth felt disgusting. She could still taste the half-rancid fries. She walked to a nearby car and looked at her reflection in the window. It wasn't a pretty sight. Her clothes were dirty and torn from excessive use and not nearly enough laundering. Her hair was greasy. She was in no condition to go back. None at all. But her whole heart was aching for it.

Three people she had thought were dead were at the Institute. At this very minute, they were probably sleeping soundly in their beds, well-satisfied with their evening meals. They were safe. They were loved. They were _home_.

Then, from underneath the constant muttering of Carol Danvers, she heard her name, repeating over and over, in a voice loud enough and insistent enough to drown out the other voices always competing for her attention.

_Marie. Marie._

Until that moment, she had never realized just how fast she could fly.


	7. Delayed

Rogue would have reached the school by midnight if it weren't for the eight foot fireball that knocked her out of the sky. She screamed and hit the ground hard, which knocked the wind out of her but didn't _exactly_ hurt. Shaking her hair out of her face and blinking, she sat up and came face to face with a scruffy young man.

"Long time, no see, John."

"Rogue."

"Heck of a way to renew an acquaintance," she said wryly, pushing slowly to her feet and noticing him tense in response. "You could've just hollered."

The man who called himself Pyro didn't answer, but his eyes flicked to a point over Rogue's shoulder. She whirled around.

"Looks like I'm not the only one the Cure didn't work for." She peered into the shadows beyond the blue-skinned woman. "Anybody else joining this little party?"

Mystique shook her head. "It's just the three of us."

"Thanks anyway," Rogue said, "but I've got a previous engagement." She pushed off from the ground, but a blast of flame from Pyro's pack formed into bars around her, enclosing her in a fiery spherical prison.

"It's rude," said Mystique, "to turn down an invitation."

"Like you're in a position to lecture me on manners," Rogue countered, indicating the bars.

"Like you're in a position to lip off," Pyro snapped.

Rogue bit back the retort that sprang to the tip of her tongue. Now that John was Pyro, he wasn't worth the effort. "Okay, Mystique, what is it you want?"

"Join us."

"Or what?"

"There's no 'or what,'" said Mystique.

"So the cage is for…."

"I just like to be heard out."

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to you."

"Only this." Mystique morphed, and Rogue gasped.

With a wave of her hand, Mama told Pyro to release his prisoner. He complied, and she sank back to earth.

"None of it was real," she murmured.

"Rogue, please, listen to me…."

"No, you listen!" She jabbed at finger at her temple. "Can you hear them? Can you hear _her_? I as good as took a life for you, and what have you ever done but use me?"

The older woman moved closer, her hand extended. "That's not true," she said. "You're like a daughter to me. Everything I did was for your good."

Rogue snorted.

"I supposed it would have been better for you to spend the rest of your life wallowing in self-pity. Better never really knowing yourself, what you could do."

"What I'm capable of."

"You are _capable_ of great things," Mama insisted. "I was just trying to show you that."

"I guess making a few million dollars in the process didn't hurt, either."

"It's war."

"Maybe so," challenged Rogue. "But I'm not your weapon. Not anymore. And if you loved me like a daughter, you'd let me go home."

Mama's head whipped around and she stopped, listening to something Rogue couldn't hear.

"What is it?" Pyro asked.

"X-Men."

Until now, Rogue hadn't known it was possible for a person's heart to leap and to fall at the same time.

Pyro twitched his pack switches nervously. The flickers of fire in the dark night hurt Rogue's eyes, and she turned away. "We can take them," he said.

"Idiot," came his leader's reply, and his face became sulky.

Mama turned back to Rogue. "I'll fight for you," she said. "But I won't fight you."

"Then you'll have to leave."

Mama faded back into Mystique, her posture defeated and her yellow eyes almost mournful.

"They have an agenda, too," she said.

"Yeah," said Rogue. "But at least I know what theirs is."

Mystique shrugged. "If you should ever find out otherwise, just remember—you can always come back to me." She nodded at Rogue and took off running for the forest, Pyro close behind her.

Rogue stared after her as the sound of the Blackbird drew nearer, as the door lowered, as it descended to the grass a few hundred feet away. She didn't see anybody leave the plane, but suddenly there they were, Logan first, Storm and the Professor close behind him.

Logan looked angry. He opened his mouth to speak, but Storm stopped him with a look.

Professor Xavier, however, was smiling. "Welcome home."


	8. Returning

The kitchen was warm and smelled of gingerbread. Rogue pushed wet hair back from her face with one hand before returning it to the steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

Logan had had questions. A _lot_ of questions, that he had shot rapid-fire at her as she sat in the Blackbird with her arms crossed, staring out the window. She hadn't answered, and Storm had rushed to her defense, telling Logan she needed time. He just rolled his eyes and started arguing the point. But then the Professor said his name, quietly, and he shut up.

All of the questions she herself had were for the Professor. _How did you find me? How did you know my real name? Why aren't you dead?_

Her eyes moved to his profile, and the question in her mind was full of intense need. _Can you help me?_

He turned to her and smiled. _If you'll let me._

Storm had summoned up a fog for their landing, and she helped Rogue sneak upstairs to the teacher's own room. Rogue was grateful for a warm bath and the clean pajamas Storm had laid out for her, but she was even more grateful at not having to face the others—Kitty, Piotr, Jubilee…Bobby.

She'd have to see them all eventually, she mused now, blowing steam from the liquid in the mug and taking a small sip. She didn't know what to say to them. She hadn't even thought about having to answer their questions until she'd heard all of Logan's. They'd all want to know where she'd gone, and why. What she'd done. What made her come back. She had questions, too. Would they ever trust her again? Did she belong here? Why _did_ she come back?

Her gaze drifted to the open window.

"You aren't a prisoner, you know," said the Professor's voice, calm and reassuring as his chair slid silently into the room. "The doors are always open for you—both ways. Windows, too."

She made a half-hearted attempt at a smile.

"Rogue…Marie…."

"How'd you know my name?" she asked. "I heard you, in my head. Calling me. But I never told you my name."

"No," he said. "But Logan did. He's been worried about you. We all have."

"Yeah, about that 'we,'" said Rogue. "You, Scott, Jean…you were…."

The Professor smiled. "Rumors of our deaths, while perhaps not greatly exaggerated, were nevertheless…premature. I can't thoroughly explain what happened," he continued, forestalling her next question, "but I'm grateful for the extra time I have, and anxious to use it to help people. Like you."

"If anybody can," Rogue said simply, "it would be you. I want these voices out of my head."

"I'm afraid they will never fully leave," said the Professor, "but I can teach you how to manage them. Shall we begin our sessions tomorrow?"

"As soon as possible." She fidgeted. "Do you think…."

Xavier waited expectantly.

"Maybe you could hold off on letting everybody know I'm back," she said. "Just for a little while."

"I can't help you until you stop running, Marie," he answered. "That has to be your choice."

Rogue raised her head at the sound of quick footsteps in the hall, and looked up to see Bobby standing there, his hair disheveled as if he'd just jumped out of bed.

"Piotr thought he saw the Blackbird come in, and Logan wouldn't tell me what was going on, so I thought maybe…." He rattled to a halt. "Hi."

"Hi," Rogue replied, a little nervously.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said the Professor as he exited.

Rogue and Bobby stared at each other awkwardly, and then started talking at once.

"Every time the Blackbird comes back…came back, I…."

"Bobby, I know I shouldn't have…."

They trailed off, and he took a step closer. "Ever since you left, I've been waiting for you to come back."

Part of Rogue wanted to fly to him, hug him, kiss him like she used to be able to do. Part of her wanted to fly out the window and write this whole return thing off as a bad idea. And part of her, she realized with surprise, didn't need to do any of those things.

"Thank you," said this surprising new Rogue, in her old voice. "That means a lot to me."

"You must have been through a lot. But we're here for you. All of us."

She nodded.

"I don't want to rush you," he said. "I just…I just want you to know I'm glad you're back."

The path ahead of her would be a long one: training with the Professor, dealing with her new powers, regaining everyone's trust, learning how to be part of a team again, discovering her new self—and that was just to start out with. It was going to take a lot of work, being grounded somewhere.

"So am I," she replied—she _chose_.

Knowing the window was always open made it easier to give up flying for a while.

_**Fin**_


End file.
